


i could be your wildflower

by mooseisloose237



Series: the stories on our skin [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Communication, Conversations, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Tattoos, basically the boys talk and cuddle, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25975339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooseisloose237/pseuds/mooseisloose237
Summary: “Where’d you get it?”“Get what?”“This,” he answers pointing to the small sunflower tattoo on the inside of his wrist.A conversation in the safehouse, featuring tattoos, tickles, and tea.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/ Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: the stories on our skin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885276
Comments: 11
Kudos: 133





	i could be your wildflower

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! hope you are having a fantastic day! in the notes of the first fic of this series, i said i might expand on this idea, and now i have! this is just a short little one shot of jon and martin talking about tattoos. not perfect, but i had fun writing it, and i hope you have fun reading it! also, i did actual reserach for this fic (basically i just looked at the tma wiki page to make sure i had Martin's timeline right).
> 
> ANYWHO, you dont need to read the first fic in this series for this to make sense, but it is always appreciated.
> 
> final note: martin's tattoo is not a wildflower, i just really liked that line. its from wildflower by the national parks.
> 
> enjoy!

“Where’d you get it?”

Martin looks up from his book to look at Jon, back resting against the arm of the couch, legs stretched out and tangled with Martin’s own. Jon stares at him, gaze open, curious, with a brightly patterned mug nested between his scarred hands.

“Get what?”

Jon sets his mug down on the table, untangling his limbs from Martin’s own before climbing over to sit with him, his back to Martin’s front, legs curled between Martin’s spread thighs. He gently grabs Martin's right hand from where it holds his book, sliding the cuff of his jumper back.

“This,” he answers, pointing to the small sunflower tattoo that rests on the inside of Martin's wrist.

Martin feels something warm unfurl in his chest. When he had first moved down to the archives, he’d always cover up his tattoo; despite having checked the institute handbook multiple times to see that yes, it was ok for tattoos to be visible at work, he’d been afraid of Jon’s opinion. While time had shown that it did not bother Jon in the least, Martin didn't anticipate how much of Jon’s attention it would pull. When they would wake up in the mornings, Jon would press a kiss to it before letting Martin leave to make tea. When they’d sit on the couch, limbs tangled, watching random Netflix documentaries, Jon would painstakingly trace every petal, fingers ghosting over the lines. When they'd eat at the small table in the cabin, chairs pushed close and thighs resting against each other, his hand would rest softly against Martin’s own, thumb gently rubbing over it. 

Martin loved it.

Jon pressed another kiss against it, pulling Martin out of his thoughts. He turned around to look at him, eyes expectant. Martin placed his book down, entwined his fingers with Jon's, and answered.

“Got it a while ago, actually, at least a couple of years before I started the institute. It was… well, it was the first job I had gotten with my ‘new and improved’ cv.” He paused, recalling the pent up anxiety that had come with that particular lie. Jon squeezed his hand, and with that reassurance, Martin continued.

“The job, well, it wasn’t the best pay, but it was more than I’d had in months. My mum’s bills weren't as bad back then, so I usually had a little extra money left over, and I saved it. Should've probably used it on something useful, you know? Saved it for a rainy day or something like that. But I'd always wanted a tattoo, ever since one of my teachers had shown me her own when I was still in school. I just thought they were so cool! And then one of my coworkers had a really pretty rose on his arm, and it was like a sign. So I asked him where he had gotten it. He told me, I looked up their prices, and I saved up. I guess it was a kind of reward for myself. Sure, I couldn't graduate, but I gotta get a cool tattoo, right?”

They sat in silence, bodies pressed together but minds far away. For Martin, talking about life before the institute felt weird; it often led to pondering about how things could have gone differently, and that was a road he didn't want to travel. Still, the fact that they could talk about things was an improvement from the first few days, where they'd dance around any topics that even remotely threatened the easily shattered peace they had managed to build. Still, over late nights, mumbled explanations, and heartfelt apologies, they’d landed here, with some grasp over difficult topics. It was a victory Martin was willing to take.

Jon broke them out of their trance yet again, turning to kiss Martin. Martin gladly returned, feeling more than hearing Jon mumble “Well, I like it.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” They pulled apart, and Martin felt his face breaking into a small smile. 

“Sooooo, do you have any secret tattoos you've forgotten to share with me? Maybe, here? Oooooor here?” As he guessed, Martin moved his hands over Jon’s chest, tickling each spot as he went. Jon scrambled to the other side of the couch, glaring at Martin as he laughed. 

“I’ll have you know I do not,” he answered in a voice reminiscent of their first months at the archives. At this, Martin laughed harder, and Jon's face quickly settled back into a smile as he crawled over to reclaim his earlier spot.

“Still, I’ve always admired them. Georgie had one; I was actually with her when she got it, it was when we were dating in uni. Daisy had one too, though I don't think you would have seen it. I didn't until after the coffin. It was pretty though. Flowers, like yours, except it covered her whole arm. I used to color it, using highlighters and pens. It was… relaxing, I guess.”

“Huh. That’s… pretty cool, I never thought about doing that. Was it your idea?”

“No, it was Daisy’s. Apparently, she and Basira used to do it during tough cases.

Martin… has trouble picturing that. The Daisy he had known did not seem like someone to sit and have someone color on their arm, did not seem like someone to allow the small touches Jon sometimes mentions. The Daisy he’d known seemed cold, detached; she did not match with the Daisy who Jon had pulled out from the coffin, who Martin had barely glimpsed, who Jon spoke of with fondness, who saved them at the institute.

Still, the fact that she existed gave Martin some comfort. Leaving Jon in the archives with Basira and Melanie had been a difficult decision. Knowing now that he still had some source of comfort made those times just a little easier to think about. 

They continued to sit together, Jon’s back pressed against Martin’s front, for the rest of the evening. At one point, Martin got up to make tea; later, Jon grabbed his laptop and put on a documentary on whales; together, they made dinner, dancing around each in the kitchen. They still ended up sprawled on the couch, the documentary playing softly in the background, Jon’s finger tracing the lines on Martin’s wrist. Despite the aches they knew a night on the couch would bring, they didn't move, and fell asleep together, caught in the warmth they made.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you liked it!
> 
> also, if you feel i am missing any tags,or see any glaring mistakes, feel free to let me know!
> 
> have an awesome day!


End file.
